


The Beast Hides His Claws

by Sordsnboars



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Canon-Typical Violence, Double Crest Dimitri, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, M/M, Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sordsnboars/pseuds/Sordsnboars
Summary: Dimitri disappears during the Tragedy, and reappears months later acting like a different person. Felix cannot believe this is the same person he had grown up with—he is not prepared to be correct about this.Felix vows to end the imposter and locate the real Dimitri. He has no leads until he arrives at Garreg Mach, where the white haired boy in the Golden Deer house seems so familiar.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55
Collections: The Three Houses AU Bang





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my FE3H Big Bang AU project! It is pre-game/pre-timeskip canon divergence based on two ideas: What if Felix was right that Dimitri wasn't who he thought he was? Why didn't the Agarthans take the opportunity to capture a crest bearer at the Tragedy? Tags will be updated as needed.
> 
> Art by [@joooocat](https://twitter.com/joooocat)! Thank you so much!

“Dimitri!” Felix shouted, running towards his friend.

“Felix!” Dimitri turned away from his father and smiled warmly at Felix dashing towards him. Felix’s heart skipped a beat.

“Can I go with Felix?” Dimitri turned to his father.

“Of course, but hurry back. We’ll be leaving soon.” The King of Faerghus clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and chuckled, sending them off.

The boys ran to a little alcove in the garden next to the training hall, one of their often-used private hiding spots. Felix noticed some of Dimitri’s hair was out of place, and reached out to fix it. Dimitri laughed and scooted closer.

“How long are you going to be gone?” Felix asked. He knew this trip was important for the Kingdom, but that meant his brother and Dimitri would both be away from him for a while.

“I don’t know yet,” Dimitri said. “Father says this is important, so we’ll stay as long as necessary. But he thinks the Duscur leadership will be amenable to a treaty.”

“I’ll be waiting for you!” Felix said. “Do you think they use different sword techniques in Duscur? You should try to learn some. Then you can show me.”

“They have a lot of skilled blacksmiths.” Dimitri looked thoughtful. “I think Father is hoping we can trade for some of their alloys. I bet their weapons are really strong! I’ll look for something that you’ll like, Felix.”

“Just don’t break anything like you did last month or they’ll never trade with us.” Felix laughed.

Dimitri pouted. “That was an accident. You know I’ve been getting better at—“

“I know! You’re so serious. You haven’t broken anything this month, right? I can tell your control is getting better.”

“Yes… I am excited to see what Duscur is like. And their weapons.”

“I will miss you. And Glenn. Actually, I brought you something.”

“Oh? Felix, you didn’t have to do that!” Dimitri looked excited anyway.

“I know. It’s just a little good luck charm. For safe travels.” Felix pulled a small pouch out of his pocket and handed it to Dimitri. Dimitri carefully pulled the pouch open and pulled out a steel arrowhead.

“Is this from…?” Dimitri held the object gingerly in his palm.

“Yeah! When I split your arrow. All the knights said that was the luckiest shot they’d ever seen. I think that means that’s a good luck charm now.” Felix said proudly. They’d both been practicing archery two months ago. Dimitri had snapped the first bow he’d picked up that day, but he’d been making steady progress with his accuracy after that. Then it had been Felix’s turn to shoot, and his first shot had split one of Dimitri’s arrows straight down the center—Dimitri had cheered for him, and every knight in the hall had been impressed, even the normally austere Gustav. Gustav had actually retrieved the split arrow and handed it to Felix, telling him he should hold onto it.

Felix had held onto it, although he’d discarded the splintered shaft and just kept the head. It was nice having a good luck charm, especially one that he’d acquired in such a fashion. He thought of the way Dimitri’s face had lit up when he saw what Felix had done; he’d been so impressed he’d run off to drag both of their fathers over to show them. He’d been _proud_ of Felix, and that thought made Felix feel warm all over. It was a little silly; Dimitri had always encouraged and challenged Felix and celebrated his accomplishments, so to impress him with just sheer luck was different. It had felt like something that was just meant to happen.

And now he wanted to pass that luck onto Dimitri. Even just traveling out of Fhirdiad to the Duscur border would take nearly two weeks with the full royal retinue, and the passage through the mountains was narrow and could be dangerous. Then when the party arrived there would be touring, discussions, negotiations… Those duties could take nearly a month on their own, then there’d be another two weeks to travel back. Dimitri would be gone two months minimum, maybe more, and there were so many unknown factors on a journey that long. Felix was confident in the abilities of the Kingdom knights—and jealous that Glenn was going with as a knight; since Felix was not yet old enough to take his place protecting the royal family—and even in the King’s abilities. Felix had never seen him fighting outside of practice matches, but his own father said the man was a terror on the battlefield.

He knew they’d all be safe, but it was hard not to worry when he thought about how long he’d have to go without seeing Dimitri.

“Are you sure you want to give this to me, Felix?” Dimitri asked. He looked down at the arrowhead in his hand like it was a precious gem.

“Yeah! I want you to travel safe and get home as fast as you can.”

Dimitri smiled. He slid the arrowhead back into its pouch and tucked it safely into one of his pockets. “I appreciate it Felix, thank you. I still can’t believe you made that shot.”

“I can’t either,” Felix admitted. “But it was cool, right?”

“Very cool,” Dimitri agreed. They were quiet for a moment.

“I know this is important, but I still hope you’re not gone that long.” Felix said quietly.

“I hope not either,” Dimitri confessed. “Um, look, Felix, I don’t have anything to give you…” He fidgeted his hands.

“That’s okay,” Felix answered quickly. “I wasn’t expecting you to. It’s not a gift exchange.”

“Regardless, I hope you will accept this.” Felix noticed the blush across Dimitri’s cheeks, right before Dimitri’s eyes slid shut and he darted forward to press a brief, soft kiss to Felix’s temple. He pulled back and looked at Felix, his eyes bright and his blush deepening. “Um, was that okay?”

Felix felt his ears turn hot and red. His pulse raced and he couldn’t think of _words_ for a moment. The seconds ticked by. Dimitri’s shy smile started to fall; that was unacceptable. Felix snapped back to himself.

“Yes!” He yelped. “Uh, I mean, yes. That was okay.” Dimitri looked relieved, and Felix felt less guilty. “You can… you can do it again. If you want.”

That seemed to surprise Dimitri. “Do you want me to?”

Felix swallowed. Of course Dimitri would try to get him to admit that he liked it. “Yes.”

Dimitri gave him a quick kiss on the cheek this time. He pulled back, his eyes sparkling.

Felix smiled back at him. He wanted to lean forward and return the favor, but he stopped himself. He wanted to press a kiss to Dimitri’s slightly chapped lips, but he knew Dimitri had to leave soon, and he didn’t want anyone to catch them—especially not either of their fathers. Dimitri looked at him expectantly. Felix bit his lip.

“When you get back from Duscur,” Felix started. “Let’s do that again.”

Dimitri laughed. “Okay. I’ll convince Father that we’ll have to hurry back.”

They leaned into each other and pressed their foreheads together. Dimitri’s eyes slid shut and Felix watched his face. He was cute—everyone around the castle said so, and Lady Charon had even mistaken him for a girl. His face was just starting to change, not quite as round as it had been even just a few months ago. Felix knew his own face, he loathed to admit, still held some childlike roundness, as most of the ladies in the castle kept telling him. Felix knew they were going to start growing up fast. He couldn’t wait—the faster he grew and learned the faster he could serve his prince and they’d never have to be separated. He didn’t think much about his own appearance, but he was certain Dimitri was going to end up a handsome, charming teenager, just like what princes sounded like in storybooks, except better. Better because Dimitri was real and Dimitri was meant for him, just like he was meant for Dimitri.

Dimitri’s eyes fluttered open after a few moments. “I should get going,” he said. “Thank you again, Felix.”

They left the garden and headed back towards the royal convoy. King Lambert, Rodrigue and Glenn were waiting, alongside a woman Felix vaguely recalled was referred to as Lady Patricia. She’d always seemed strange and distant to Felix, and her lavender eyes were piercing, but Dimitri adored her. She seemed even more distant today, like she barely realized where she was. Lambert helped her into the carriage, then turned back to the Fraldarius men.

Felix and Rodrigue said their goodbyes, to Glenn and Dimitri and the king. Glenn teased Felix, Felix snapped at him, Rodrigue told them both to watch their manners, then Glenn mounted his horse, still laughing, to take his place by the royal carriage. Dimitri would ride with Lady Patricia while Lambert would ride ahead of them until they stopped for the evening.

The two of them watched the convoy leave. Glenn and his battalion took off first along with Lambert, then Lady Patricia and Dimitri’s carriage, then the rest of the knights, followed by several civilian carts with cooks and staff and others. Felix knew a botanist was going with to study Duscur plants, and he’d overheard the cooks chatting excitedly about what kinds of new dishes they’d learn about.

As the last few horses left, Rodrigue and Felix returned to Castle Fhirdiad. Rodrigue would assist with urgent government matters while the king was out, and Felix would stay there with him.

Felix would be practicing with a training sword in the knight’s hall when a messenger rode frantically into the castle grounds with news of the king’s death.


	2. Misinformed

Felix opened his eyes. He debated on rolling over and going back to sleep. More sleep wouldn’t make a difference; he would still be tired and miserable. Glenn would still be dead. Dimitri would still be gone.

His eyes stung when he thought of them. The King was dead; he’d been found _beheaded_. Who would dare do that? Lambert had been a popular king. Maybe not popular enough. Glenn had been found near the king’s body. A true knight, right until the end. Felix’s stomach churned.

Lady Patricia’s burned remains had been found quite a ways from the carriage. He’d overheard a knight telling Rodrigue that they thought she’d grabbed Dimitri and ran, trying to save herself and the prince by fleeing.

Dimitri had not been found at all.

The knights sent out in response to the attack—Felix had overheard Rufus, now acting as regent after his brother’s death, refer to the attack as the Tragedy of Duscur. He didn’t know if the name was meant to refer to the loss of the royal family and everyone else from the kingdom, or if it was about the slaughter that the kingdom army had committed on the people of Duscur in retaliation.

The only lead so far to Dimitri’s whereabouts was a single young Duscur man, the only survivor of the massacre of Duscur’s capital city. He claimed that as Kingdom soldiers had advanced on him, a young boy covered in blood and dirt had suddenly jumped in front of him, the soldier’s blows landing on his back as he screamed—and a blue flash of light had gone off as the boy had shoved one of the soldiers so hard he’d flown across the room and crashed through a door. The flash of light had made the soldiers back off, and the boy had grabbed his shoulders and yelled at him to run.

They had barely made it outside before mages—dressed in black, wearing no colors that would signify allegiance to any house—had appeared and swarmed the boy, casting a ward on him and dragging him away into the flames and chaos. The Duscur boy had run and hid, until he was found a day later by Kingdom forces sweeping for survivors.

They’d brought him to Rodrigue, who had put a stop to his interrogation after he realized the rather tall young man was only fourteen and clearly hadn’t been involved in any assassination attempts. Plus, it would not do for the only lead about Dimitri to wind up mysteriously injured or dead.

The boy’s name was Dedue. Even at fourteen he was taller than Rodrigue. He was quiet, and jumpy.

Felix couldn’t blame him for that. He could speak the Faerghus tongue but not read it, and most of the people around him didn’t want to speak to him anyway. Rodrigue had found a tutor to teach him to read and write the Fodlan language, so he was getting better at communicating even though he was still avoidant.

Felix didn’t know what to make of him. Rodrigue seemed to cling to his story, refusing to let go of the hope, however slim, that Dimitri might yet live. If he had been dragged away by strange mages, that meant he had probably been kidnapped.

But the whole story sounded so… odd. Why would Dimitri throw himself in front of one random boy? If the soldiers had actually attacked him, he might have been killed by those injuries and perhaps the soldiers had forced Dedue to cover up for them. But then the soldiers who had been there had corroborated Dedue’s story—the one that Dimitri had shoved actually had a broken rib that he attributed to the prince. They’d been reluctant to speak up because they could be executed for grievously harming the prince, but since information about his supposed disappearance was more important they had spoken up. None of them were certain why Dimitri had protected Dedue. Felix was aware that if Dimitri had not done so, the soldiers would have killed the young man like they’d killed the rest of his family and they would have thought nothing of it.

Rodrigue had brought Dedue back to Fraldarius territory with him. Dedue was good with an axe, so Felix trained against him sometimes. Dedue didn’t speak much, which was fine with Felix.

Felix didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway. He’d been furious at his father ever since he spewed out his ridiculous spiel about Glenn’s death being noble, like a true knight. Pathetic. He’d died for nothing—if he’d ran away at least maybe he could have saved himself. Or if he’d never joined the knights at all. Felix never understood why the eldest son of one of the most important houses in Faerghus would choose the path of knighthood anyway.

He was angry at himself for admiring Glenn’s choice when he was younger. For admiring it as recently as six months ago, when he was jealous that Glenn got to escort the royal procession to Duscur. He was angry at Ingrid for worshiping knighthood with him and he was angry at her for her… antics since the tragedy occurred. She’d screamed and sobbed, the perfect picture of a widow who’d lost her valiant husband. They hadn’t even been married. She hadn’t answered his letter, one of condolences that his father had made him write. Felix knew he was being unfair to her and that she was hurting, but that did not lessen his rage. Sylvain had sent Felix a letter from Galatea—he was there comforting her. Felix had a sick suspicious that Margrave Gautier had sent Sylvain there to try and coerce Count Galatea into arranging them into a marriage now that Glenn was gone.

As sick and furious Felix felt thinking about his brother, at least he knew that Glenn was actually dead. Felix had seen his burnt armor himself. There was no doubt about his fate, as pathetic and undeserved as it was.

Thinking about Glenn made Felix sad, and angry. Thinking about Dimitri made him hurt in a different way he couldn’t identify. Thinking about Dimitri made his chest ache and his eyes sting and his head hurt.

The prince was gone, but no remains that matched his appearance had been found. Soldiers had spent weeks sweeping through the carnage and chaos, looking for the prince, alive or dead. They’d found instead Dedue, who brought with him a small sliver of hope that Dimitri might be alive.

Felix hated not knowing. He almost wanted to believe he was dead, just so Felix could let go of the suffering of not knowing his fate. But every time he tried to convince himself that Dimitri was dead and that they’d never find him, it sent a spike of agony right through his heart. He couldn’t admit that it would be easier if they knew for certain that Dimitri was dead. Not when Felix so desperately wanted him alive.

If no more leads surfaced, Dimitri would likely be given a state funeral. The country would slow to a crawl, again, to mourn the prince. Felix didn’t want to attend another funeral—there had already been two weeks worth of mourning for King Lambert, and another week to commemorate all the knights who had been slain, and then five days for the civilians who had been lost. Nearly a month of mourning, and the entire country still seemed somber. Felix still saw commoners wearing gray and blue and black, the colors of Faerghus and loss, to mourn the deaths of such important figures.

Rodrigue had been absent from Fraldarius much of the time since the announcement came in. As one of the Kingdom’s most decorated nobles he had a large hand in deciding what the country would do going forward. Rufus, the late king’s elder brother, had taken the seat as regent. No longer an unfavored crestless prince, but still not quite a king.

Felix had never liked the man much. He’d ignored Dimitri and his friends when they were children and he’d been quite rude to Dimitri as he’d gotten older. Felix didn’t think he’d make a good ruler.

Felix squinted as his window, then buried his face in his pillow. Going by the shadows in his room, it was nearly noon and he’d wasted all morning in bed.

Not that in mattered. Without his father around he had no plans or lessons during the day. His tutor had been dismissed temporarily due to Felix’s increasingly terrible temper. The Fraldarius knights often waved him away and said they were too busy to spar with him, but he knew they were just gossiping.

He knew there wouldn’t be any letters waiting for him. Nothing from Sylvain or Ingrid. Most of his cousins had stopped writing him after he’d sent some of them brusque letters in response to their condolence notes about Glenn. He was still mourning, he knew they would be thinking, just leave him alone for now.

He was mourning, but not only mourning. So many things made him so angry now. He’d never considered himself to have much of a temper, before, although he knew he could get… emotional. His eyes still stung often, like they always did before he cried, but he was sick of crying and sick of being teased for it. He’d wept for the king, who had once been almost more of an uncle than his actual uncle to him, and he’d sobbed and sobbed for his brother. He shouldn’t have had to be crying for his slain brother, but he did, and that was enough. If he let himself start weeping for Glenn again he might never stop.

He did not let himself cry over Dimitri. If they found his body and confirmed that he was dead, Felix would weep with his very soul, but not before then. Not when there was still hope, however small, that he might live.

——

Felix rolled out of bed, messily tied his hair up and got dressed. He skipped eating and went right to the training grounds, just like he did nearly every day for the past several months. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed, but he didn’t care about that. He’d do it later. He always woke up fuming, made himself sick to his stomach, and went to the training hall to work himself until exhaustion so he could fall asleep without seeing his brother or Dimitri or even his father and getting angry all over again. The anger was a simmering background emotion, now; sometimes it would flare up into white hot anger but mostly it was simply how Felix felt throughout the day. He could scream about how unfair it all was, but that wouldn’t make anything better.

That was the crux of Felix’s problem. He hated how things were and he didn’t know how to make them better.

Dedue was at the training hall when Felix got there. Dedue nodded good morning to him and continued his practice swings with an axe.

Felix nodded back at him. If Dedue didn’t want to talk, that was fine. Felix didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway.

He didn’t like thinking about Dedue’s situation—it seemed terrible and unfair on top of everything else about the tragedy. Rufus and a small council of lords had been so outraged at the slaughter of the royal convoy that they’d immediately sent troops of knights to punish Duscur for the transgression, despite the lack of reasoning to do so. There’d be no evidence that Duscur had actually had anything to do with the assassination, only location and opportunity.

Felix had lost a lot of people, but Dedue had lost _everything_. It made the pit in his stomach feel heavy and uneasy. He knew, idly, that someone had to be responsible for the Tragedy. It wasn’t the work of bandits or the Western Church, who’d been stirring up uneasiness the past few years. It was a coordinated attack, intended to cause as much chaos and death as possible. Getting the jump on multiple battalions of well trained Kingdom soldiers, as well as the King of Faerghus himself—it was true he’d spent the last few years mostly behind a desk, but he was still a highly trained, powerful warrior. There was just no way an attack like that hadn’t been coordinated.

It frustrated Felix that Duscur had suffered so much, for no reason at all. The small country would have had little to gain from assassinating the king, especially while he was there on a diplomatic visit that was meant to benefit both countries.

One minor lord who had stood to benefit greatly from both assassinating the king and razing part of Duscur was Count Kleiman. Rodrigue had begun to covertly investigate him and any potential ties to the attack, but it would likely take a long time for anything concrete to surface, especially since many of the attackers had either vanished or died.

That was another odd thing. There had only been a few bodies that hadn’t belonged to kingdom soldiers found. Where had the attackers gone? The kingdom forces would have almost certainly fought back. There should have been bodies of the attackers mixed in with the kingdom forces. There was hardly anything to go on.

That lended some credence to Dedue’s story about mages dragging Dimitri away. If there had been a large force of mages, they could teleport forces in and teleport away the remains after they’d fallen. Why do that, though? Enemy forces were rarely concerned with removing their dead from the battlefield if they were forced to retreat. The attack, though, seemed to be a success—the king had been slain and any possible treaties with Duscur prevented. So with Dedue’s description of strange mages whose outfits gave no clue to their identity, Felix had to assume they wanted to remain unknown.

Nothing about it made sense to Felix. Just another aspect that confused him and made him hurt. Nobody knew why this happened or who had executed or what they’d hoped to accomplish from it. Rodrigue had been in Fhirdiad pushing to keep looking into it, but Rufus and some of the other lords considered the matter settled.

Felix almost wanted his father to just drop it. It would save them all a lot of heartache. He felt guilty for that though, though; if Duscur truly had nothing to do with it then the massacre was completely in vain. Even if Duscur had been partly responsible that didn’t justify attacking the capital. If mages had actually kidnapped Dimitri, what was their intent? Nobody had announced they held him captive, or had asked for a ransom. It did not make sense to kill everyone in the convoy just to kidnap one young prince for seemingly no reason.

“You look lost in thought,” Dedue spoke, interrupting Felix’s spiraling thought process.

Felix jumped. “Don’t sneak up on people like that,” he snapped. He felt bad when Dedue flinched. “Sorry,” he said. “Yeah. There’s been a lot to think about.”

Dedue nodded. “Is there anything specific you’ve been thinking about?”

Felix worked his jaw. Dedue seemed to be fishing for something in particular. “No,” he said. “Lots of different things.”

Dedue was quiet for a moment, as he returned his wooden axe to the weapon rack. “Could we perhaps speak somewhere privately?”

Felix frowned. There weren’t that many people in the training hall, although Felix was sure Dedue preferred to avoid everyone he could. He didn’t think people were being cruel to him after Rodrigue had chewed a few knights out over it, but then again he wasn’t around Dedue every hour of the day.

Felix walked him to a private area, a patch of trees outside one of the gardens. Dedue sat on a rock and looked at his hands before he spoke.

“I know you’ve heard my story,” he started. “I am aware Lord Rodrigue believes me. Some of his knights do not.”

“The kingdom knights who were there said your story was true,” Felix said.

“Correct. I know there are still those who think I made it up to save myself.”

Felix scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

A small smile appeared on Dedue’s lips, before it slipped away. “I agree. I wanted to ask you if you thought there was a chance your prince was still alive.”

Felix looked away. He’d spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out what he truly believed about the possibility Dimitri was alive. “I think… He _could_ be. No one found his body. And you said mages took him.”

Dedue nodded. “That’s how I feel,” he said. “If there’s a chance he’s alive, I would like to assist in locating him.”

Felix’s brows raised. “Why? We have no leads, and if he’s been captured rescuing him would be dangerous.”

“I’m aware,” Dedue said. “I… feel as though I need to earn my keep here. Lord Rodrigue did not have to take me in.”

Dedue hadn’t been doing much work since he’d been brought to Fraldarius territory, that was true. That was partly because Rodrigue had been distracted by his story about Dimitri, and because it didn’t seem like anyone had bothered to find out what Dedue’s aptitudes were beyond which weapons he was good with. How typical.

“If there’s a chance…” Felix started. “If Dimitri could be alive…” He didn’t know what exactly he wanted to say. If Dimitri was alive Felix would do anything to have his best friend home and safe? That the not knowing if Dimitri is alive or not is almost more crushing than if he was confirmed dead? Felix cleared his throat. “If there’s anything that can be done for him, we’ll do it.”

Dedue’s face softened, just a little. “I do not have many resources, but I will do my best.”

Felix nodded. Maybe he could show Dedue the keep’s library. He could work on his reading there and they could start looking for… for anything. Felix didn’t even know where to start; he’d probably need to actually speak to his father once he returned to Fraldarius for longer than a day or two.

“In the meantime, do you want something to do? You sound kind of bored.”

Dedue stiffened. “I would not say that,” he said tersely.

“You don’t have to fall all over yourself with gratitude,” Felix frowned. “Nobody thinks you should be _grateful_ for your circumstances.”

Dedue’s brows drew together in a faint frown. “Many have told me I should be grateful to be in Fraldarius, considering the alternative.”

Felix frowned too. He knew some of the knights and staff had been rude to him, but he didn’t truly know the extent of it. That almost made it sound like Dedue had been threatened.

“I cannot afford to seem ungrateful,” Dedue said.

“What did you do before, uh…”

“Before I was here?” Dedue kindly filled in for him.

“Um. Yes.”

“I was an apprentice blacksmith. I also have experience with cooking for many people, and I have some gardening knowledge.” Dedue said, his voice even.

“We could always use more blacksmiths,” Felix said. “Talk to my father about working with one of the smiths when he gets back. Or if you’d rather stay closer to the castle, talk to the gardener.”

Dedue nodded. “I will try that,” he said. “What do you think I should do about the prince?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you or I could do right now,” Felix admitted. “But there’s so little go on I don’t even know where to start researching.”

“I have a suggestion,” Dedue said. “The mages I witnessed were dressed very strangely. It sounds as though magic played a significant role in the ambush.”

“Yes… That seems likely. I don’t know much about magic, but my old man might,” Felix said. Was he really thinking about this? Could the two of them really accomplish more than Rodrigue and the knights could? Then again, most of the lords seemed convinced that the matter had been settled with the slaughter of Duscur. Some of them had seemed to come to that conclusion perhaps too quickly when Dimitri still could not be proven dead, even. “The knights and townsfolk don’t really pay attention to you, do they? Try to listen in when they chatter with each other. Maybe we’ll hear something new.”

Dedue stiffened. “They ignore me, sometimes,” he said.

That didn’t sound good. Felix wasn’t really sure how to help Dedue around the Fraldarius staff or around the townsfolk.

“If anyone asks, tell them you’re there on my behalf.”

Dedue agreed to do so. Felix told him he was welcome to use the library in the main house, as well. They walked back to the training hall and went a few rounds, until it was time for dinner.

A few days later, a messenger from Fhirdiad sent by Rodrigue arrived to retrieve Felix and escort him to castle Fhirdiad—Lady Cornelia Arnim, a royal physician and advisor appointed by the late king, had found the missing prince. Felix stuffed some clothes in a bag, sent for Dedue and insisted that he be allowed to come with, and they set off for the capital city.

——

Dimitri blinked. His eyes and his mouth were dry, and he felt groggy. He tried to sit up, but that made his head swim. He didn’t know what time it was or what day it was or where he was, the same things he didn’t know and hadn’t known for the past… while. He didn’t know how long he’d been here, wherever here was.

His hair had been neatly bobbed just above his shoulders before he was… here, and now the rough ends brushed a little past his shoulders. That meant his time here had been at least a few months, right?

He couldn’t remember why his head hurt and he ached all over. Probably something the pale, odd mages had done to him. They’d been doing strange, painful things to him since he’d woken up alone in a cell. They took samples of his blood and sliced off little samples of his skin. They sent magic through him that left him shrieking with pain and feeling nauseous later. He couldn’t recall the last time he had a clear thought, and thinking about it sent a surge of pain behind his eyes; a budding migraine.

He’d thought they were going to help him, at first. He’d been hurt when he woke up, and they had healed him. But as soon as his injuries had healed they had started hurting him.

Not for the first time, Dimitri hoped that he was stuck in an elaborate nightmare. Wherever he was now, all he really knew was constant pain and hunger. He’d spent hours trying to smash through the walls of his cell, but all that did was make his arms ache and his hands bleed. Either he was too weak from his injuries to make a dent, or perhaps the walls were reinforced with magic. He was trapped.

The few things he remembered before he came here were… not better. The pain had started _before_ he woke up in a cell, not after. He remembered flames, bursts of magic, running… He remembered the agonized screams of the dying, and his father screaming for vengeance. He remembered screaming himself—he’d tried to run away, but he’d been hurt. His coat had caught fire, and later he’d been stabbed. He thought he was going to die too.

Was everyone else dead? They had to be. Was he dead? It was possible, but everything he’d been told about the afterlife was nothing like this.

Was his father dead?

Dimitri suspected he was, but that did not explain why sometimes his father was in the cell with him. Dimitri begged his father to help him escape, but his father would just shake his head and leave. Sometimes—sometimes he did not _have_ a head; Dimitri recognized him only by his burnt clothing.

One of the mages—a scientist?—who guarded him thought it was funny that he begged for his father. He wrote notes about it. Dimitri didn’t think it was funny. He wanted to go home.

He felt a ripple of sadness wash through him, and that made his head hurt even worse. He curled up and tried to go back to sleep. He didn’t know if it was day or night, but sleeping was better than being awake.

He woke up again later, feeling worse than before. He could hear some mages talking outside his cell.

“Eligor has been sent to meet with Cornelia,” one of them said. Dimitri thought this one’s name was Naphula. “We believe he will be a suitable replacement. Hopefully he can control his disposition.”

“Excellent,” the other said. Dimitri didn’t know this one’s name. “Now that the situation has been resolved, we can proceed with our specimen.”

“This one was quite a good find,” Naphula said. “He’s been resilient to our tests, so far. After the last batch performed so poorly I wasn’t sure we’d be able to find one sturdy enough to proceed with.”

Were they talking about _him_? They were going to… test something on him? Fear welled up in the pit of his stomach.

“Are you awake?” The other one addressed him suddenly, sounding almost pleasant. “I have good news for you. You’re to be an important test subject, so rest assured that you will not be killed or injured beyond repair.”

Apparently that statement was meant to make him feel better. Dimitri swallowed. If he wanted to get out of this alive, he should try to gain their trust and learn who they are and what they want. _Injured beyond repair_ made him nervous, but… perhaps he could use the newfound knowledge that he seemed to be important to them to his advantage.

_That’s right, boy,_ a gravelly voice said behind him. _Observe them, use their needs to suit yours, and when you get out of here you crush every single one of their skulls._

Dimitri jerked upright. He nodded.

_Don’t acknowledge me in front of them, foolish boy,_ Lambert? said. _Just promise me that you’ll live through this so you can avenge us._

Dimitri nodded. “Yes, that’s… that’s very reassuring.” He answered the mages. His neck and his palms felt sweaty, even though the cell was cold.

They seemed pleased with his answer. “Rest now,” Naphula told him. “You are a suitable subject, but it won’t do to wear you out immediately. Humans appear to have a natural healing function, although it occurs quite slowly,” he said to his colleague. The other mage nodded. “We may need to accelerate that, but now we have an abundance of time to look into it.” The two of them walked away, discussing their plans with each other.

Dimitri waited until they were out of sight. He looked over every inch of his cell, but his father wasn’t there. How was he getting in and out? He’d checked but he couldn’t even find any holes or cracks in the walls. Why was Dimitri stuck here?

“Father?” He whispered. He waited for an answer, but there wasn’t one. “Father? Are you there?” He tried again. Nothing.

He curled up on his cot. His old clothes, the burnt and damaged ones, had been discarded. He had a plain gray tunic and trousers now. He did not seem to have any belongings besides a small pouch with an arrowhead in it that he kept under his pillow.

The arrowhead meant something to him, but when he tried to recall what exactly it was for his head hurt. He knew it was related to someone important. A charm of some sort, perhaps. He knew he should remember more about it, but his head felt so foggy all the time.

Was the person who gave it to him with him during the ordeal? Did they survive? Maybe the charm had helped his own survival. A silly thought, but Dimitri could not help himself. He was not sure if he was grateful for it or not.

Dimitri knew that the flames and the chaos had killed many people. He was not sure if anyone except himself had survived. His captors had told him he was the only one. He was not sure if his father had survived, even though he still spoke to Dimitri.

His head hurt. His heart hurt. He pressed his fists against his eyes, and cried silently until he fell asleep.


	3. Obscured

“I don’t want to see him,” Felix hissed at his father.

“Felix, he’s still recovering,” Rodrigue said. The bags under his eyes had gotten significantly darker in the weeks since Dimitri had been home. “It’s not unexpected that he might act a little differently.”

“He’s not acting _a little_ differently,” Felix snapped. “He’s acting _completely_ different.”

He knew he sounded petulant. He knew his father wouldn’t listen to him.

“It’s truly not that drastic,” Rodrigue sighed. Felix wondered if Rodrigue even believed that.

“He barely knew who you were,” Felix said. “He didn’t recognize me. He didn’t know Ingrid’s name. He asked about _Count_ Gautier.”

“Felix—“ Rodrigue started.

“He shouted at the nurse and knocked a tray out of a servant’s hands—“

“Felix!” Rodrigue raised his voice. “You know he’s been through a lot. Give him some time to—“

“He’s been back over a month and he’s still acting crazy,” Felix said. They’d been through this conversation a dozen times. “You just don’t want to believe there’s anything wrong with him—“

“Felix, that’s enough,” Rodrigue snapped.Felix recognized that end-of-conversation tone in his voice. “We’ve been over this. He’s been through many terrible experiences. He might never be exactly the same as he was before the Tragedy, but we need to be there for him.”

“He doesn’t want us there,” Felix argued. “He’s acting like we’re strangers, and he’s rude, and he’s—“

“I know it’s painful to see him so hurt,” Rodrigue said, gentle now. “But he cannot recover by himself. He needs support. That means myself, and you, and his friends.”

“He doesn’t act injured,” Felix grumbled, knowing this fight was winding down and he had lost, again. “I can’t even see any injuries on him. He should have burns. Or scars. If one of the knights stuck a lance through him like Dedue said—“

Rodrigue shook his head. “Cornelia is one of the most talented healers in the Kingdom. It’s no surprise he has very few scars.”

“Then why can’t she fix his brains?” Felix bit out. “There’s something wrong with him.”

“Felix, that’s a cruel thing to say,” Rodrigue said. He sounded as tired as he looked. “He’ll feel better soon enough.”

Felix turned on his heel and stormed away. He was tired of hearing his father’s excuses—excuses he was increasingly certain that not even Rodrigue believed. He was still furious over his father’s dismissal of Glenn’s death, and his insistence that they had to honor Glenn’s loss by helping out Dimitri.

Dimitri’s behavior was unbelievable. What could possibly have happened to him in six months to turn him so crass and cruel? He didn’t even act like he’d been shaken up by a bad experience. He wouldn’t even explain what that experience was; whenever anyone questioned him about those six months he’d been missing after the attack on the royal convoy Cornelia would shoo them away with that horrible smug smirk on her face, and say he needed to rest.

When the messenger had arrived to tell him that Dimitri had been found, Felix’s mind had gone blank with relief. He’d almost broken his vow to himself and cried—he had never wanted to believe Dimitri was dead but the more time that had passed, the closer he’d come to letting himself give up and believe that was true.

He’d packed a few things, located Dedue—he knew Dedue was interested in the prince too, and he didn’t want to leave him alone at the Fraldarius estate—and left a note for his uncle and hurried into the carriage to rush to Fhirdiad.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he saw Dimitri again. Felix had assumed his friend would be the same sweet, valiant boy he’d known all his life. Maybe disturbed and sad by what he’d witnessed and who he’d lost, but he would still be _Dimitri_.

He wasn’t.

Felix had ran up to him, ignoring his father’s warning not to crowd him. The lack of warmth and recognition in Dimitri’s eyes had been startling, like Dimitri had been looking at a stranger. After a moment his mouth had twisted up into a sneer—not the brilliant, warm smile Dimitri usually had on his face when Felix was with him, but something odd and cold.

Felix knew something was wrong. He’d never seen a look like that on Dimitri’s face; it made him look like a stranger. He didn’t just look like a stranger, he had acted like one too. The more Felix interacted with him the worse he felt. Dimitri was unlike himself. He was rude and mean; he’d nearly made a servant cry after he’d shouted at her. Felix knew Rodrigue thought this wasn’t normal either, but he couldn’t get his father to admit it. He could see the exhaustion and frustration on his father’s face every time he had to interact with the little beast that had come home and called itself Dimitri.

Dimitri wasn’t like that. He was kind, and smart, and brave. Whoever Cornelia had brought home wasn’t any of those things.

Felix tried to avoid him, under the guise of giving him space. Talking to him made Felix’s skin crawl, and in turn that made him feel guilty and even more upset. Like he’d had brief hope that he had his friend back, only to have him slip away again immediately.

Maybe Dimitri would go back to normal. Maybe Felix would adjust to the way he was now. Felix wasn’t sure either of those options were possible.

Dimitri didn’t even look the same—he hadn’t been that tall the last time Felix had seen him. His father said it wasn’t unusual for boys at that age to suddenly get taller, but Felix didn’t buy that. Nothing about this seemed right. Not to mention his hair was shorter—he’d blamed that on his hair getting singed during the attack, but he wasn’t burned anywhere else.

Cornelia wouldn’t say where or how she had found him, just that she’d sent some of her own mages to track him down. Dimitri wouldn’t say where he had been after the attack either.

Felix huffed as he walked away from his father. Castle Fhirdiad was cold this time of year, but the goosebumps on his arms couldn’t be attributed entirely to the chill.

He wanted to go to the training hall and unknot the twisted feeling in his gut, but he didn’t want to risk overhearing any of the knights talking about Dimitri. Or worse, running into Dimitri himself. He’d been exerting himself more and more, although he still didn’t seem up to his normal strength. Felix had watching him on the training grounds against an instructor the week before—what he’d lacked in sheer strength he’d made up for in viciousness. Dimitri didn’t even fight like he used to, his strikes and swings were simply not the same. He hadn’t even looked at the rack of training lances that had been fortified just for his use; he’d picked up a plain training sword and after one round, he’d switched to a large dagger.

He’d never even seen Dimitri use a dagger before. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed watching Dimitri’s lance work until he watched Dimitri walk past the lance rack and felt disappointment welling up in his chest.

Once the disappointment started it just didn’t stop. Every time Dimitri was cruel to the castle staff or rude to one of his friends it cut Felix deeper. Dimitri didn’t even acknowledge Dedue.

Felix opted not to head to the training hall, and instead went in the direction of his own room, in a far wing of the castle. They’d given Dedue a room next to his.

He knocked on Dedue’s door twice, then let himself in. Dedue seemed nervous around the castle—Felix had told him that Dedue should let him know if any of the knights or staff weren’t treating him well, he he hadn’t said anything to Felix.

Dedue was sitting stiffly in a chair with a book in his lap, but relaxed slightly as Felix stepped into the room. Felix sat on the bed and stared a hole into the carpet.

“You seem upset,” Dedue said. “Did the prince say something?”

“No,” Felix said. Now that he’d gotten away from his father and had time to sit his head started aching. “Not him, for once. My father, with more of his pathetic pleas.”

Dedue nodded. He didn’t know the ins and outs of the relationship between House Fraldarius and the royal family, but he had quickly learned that they were intertwined. He was observant, though, and good at drawing conclusions.

Felix had spoken to Dedue over his troubles with the prince. Dedue hadn’t known Dimitri, but even Dedue found his behavior strange. “I do not find his behavior consistent with the boy who protected me,” Dedue had said. “I do not think this man would put himself on the line for anyone. He does not acknowledge me now.”

“The Dimitri I knew would have cried at seeing you alive,” Felix had mumbled. “He would have been more concerned for you than himself.”

“Perhaps. That does not seem to be the case.”

“No… maybe not.” Felix had paced around his room. “I just don’t get it. What could have happened to him to change him like this?”

“I have read that disturbing events can change a person fundamentally,” Dedue had told him. He’d taken to looking things up in the library whenever he had a free moment; Felix assumed the lack of people in the library and a desire to improve his skill at reading the Fódlan language made it an ideal place to spend time in when he wasn’t training or assisting the estate gardener in Fraldarius. Plus, the Fhirdiad castle library was much larger than the one back at Fraldarius. “But if that is truly the case here, it seems an extreme change.”

Felix wondered what Dedue had been like before the slaughter of Duscur. Had that changed him fundamentally? An event like that that _must_ have; he would not have been so reserved and guarded around his own family.

“Still, it’s hard to believe,” Felix shook his head.

That had been two weeks after he’d first seen Dimitri again. The more Felix was forced to interact with him, the less Felix could make sense of him.

“You don’t think,” Felix started. Dedue waited for him to continue. “I know this sounds crazy, but…” He bit his lip. Dedue waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“He was gone almost six months,” Felix said. He stared at the rug on the floor; old but still plush. He couldn’t bring himself to look Dedue in the eyes while he spouted off an idea that he _knew_ was nonsense. “Six months… That would be long enough to make somebody else… look like him, wouldn’t it?”

Dedue was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was low. “Are you suggesting the prince could be an imposter?”

“I—I think so,” Felix answered quietly. It sounded ridiculous to say out loud, to admit to someone else, but the more thought he’d given to the idea, the harder it was to shake. Telling it to Dedue made it seem both more plausible and more wildly unlikely.

Dedue didn’t answer, and Felix dared a glance at him. His brows were furrowed; he looked like he was giving Felix’s idea serious consideration. “Felix, do you truly believe that this is a possibility? That his personality is so different from before that you find it more likely that he is a different person, than that he was simply changed by his experiences?” Dedue’s deep voice was soft and even, but his questions were solid.

Did Felix truly believe that Dimitri could have been replaced by a lookalike? Or did he hate the idea of Dimitri being different so much that he was deep in denial; that he couldn’t accept that _this_ was Dimitri as the truth?

“I need to think about it more,” Felix admitted. “I just don’t know how else to explain why he’s so different.”

“I think your theory is possible.” Dedue’s voice was serious.

Felix’s eyebrows shot up. “You do?”

Dedue nodded. “Like you said, he was gone for several months. I think that would have been sufficient time to arrange for a lookalike to take his place. The prince is at an age where it wouldn’t be surprising if he looked somewhat different after a few months had passed. It’s not an unreasonable idea. And I did not know the prince beforehand, but I find his previous actions towards me difficult to reconcile with his attitude now.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to agree with me,” Felix admitted. “I was starting to think I was crazy.”

“It is far-fetched,” Dedue said. “But I don’t think it’s impossible.”

Felix paced around the room. He still couldn’t bring himself to look Dedue in the eye, even if he felt relieved that Dedue hadn’t immediately called his theory insane. Although, part of him had secretly wanted Dedue to do just that—release him from this doubt and denial.

“If it’s true, or even if it’s not—what should we do?” Felix asked. “Nobody would take me seriously if I said he was a fake. And I doubt they’d believe you at all. My old man already thinks I’m just whining over nothing.”

“Gathering information on an enemy before you take action against them is usually a wise first move,” Dedue stated.

Felix felt a smile tug at his lips. “Have you been reading that set of tactical manuals?”

Dedue returned his small smile. “Yes. They’re very informative.”

“But to gather information on him I’d have to spend time around him,” Felix’s smile flattened back into a frown. “I can barely stand the sight of him.”

“You may have to swallow down your distaste of him if you want to learn about him,” Dedue said. “I would volunteer in your stead, but that may be even more difficult.”

Felix grimaced at that. “You should let him keep ignoring you. He might treat you the way he treats the staff.”

“Or worse.” Dedue added.

“We’ll come up with something,” Felix said. Dedue nodded.

——

“Felix, there you are! Spar with me.” Dimitri rounded on Felix the second he stepped into the training hall. He stood far too close for comfort; Dimitri, previously, disliked it when people crowded him and he gave others their distance.

Felix took a step back. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting,” he said. He didn’t want to fight with him—Dimitri had unmatched brute strength but he was an honorable fighter, aside from the occasional bouts of dirty fighting their instructors sometimes encouraged. Dimitri didn’t seem as strong now—he and Cornelia blamed that on his injuries—but he made up for it with viciousness.

“I’m feeling better! As you can see.” Dimitri had a weird little smirk on his face. Felix wanted to knock it off of him.

“Fine,” Felix said. He could do this. He could spend time around Dimitri if it would help him unravel his personality change. He would get to the bottom of this no matter what it took

They both chose swords off the rack. Felix barely got into his stance when Dimitri swung at him; a quick but telegraphed move that Felix dodged easily.

“You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?” Dimitri asked after a few swings, pausing to watch Felix. “Why is that?”

Felix felt his face flush; he hoped the exertion from the match would cover it. He was a terrible liar and he hoped Dimitri wasn’t aware of that. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” he huffed as he caught his breath, “They told me to stay away so you can rest.”

“Do I look like I need rest?” Dimitri smirked at him with that lopsided sneer that Felix had swiftly come to hate. It looked so wrong on his face.

Felix didn’t answer and their fight resumed. He and Dimitri had practiced together so often Felix thought he knew most of Dimitri’s fighting styles, even his often neglected swordplay. There was little familiarity here.

Even with a style of sword fighting that Felix didn’t know how to predict, Felix still won. Felix spat out a phony compliment on his new techniques, a forced attempt at the geniality that practice matches were supposed to have.

Dimitri’s face looked tight and his lips were pressed together, like he was masking anger. Anger at losing? Dimitri had rarely gotten upset about losing matches before—he was usually pleased for the opportunity to learn from the loss.

Felix couldn’t help provoking him a little, to see if he reacted how Dimitri _should_ react. “Maybe you do need more rest, if that’s the best you can do,” he grumbled. Dimitri didn’t respond. His lip curled up, but he still looked mad. He worked his jaw, and his face relaxed after a moment.

“Maybe you’re right. You’re always so concerned for me, aren’t you, Felix?”

Felix scowled. Dimitri sounded accusatory, almost. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t _mean_ anything,” The traces of anger had left his face and that crooked smirk was back. “I know you care about me. So you’ll stop ignoring me, right?”

Felix frowned. “I told you why I haven’t been around. If they stop shooing me away I’ll visit more.”

“Is that so,” Dimitri said. Felix didn’t like the thoughtful look in his eyes. “I’ll have to do something about that. I wish I had time for another match, but I have to go.” He dropped his training sword where he stood, turned and left the hall without another word. Felix breathed a sigh of relief, and picked up the sword and returned them both to the rack. Dimitri would never disrespect a weapon like that, he always made sure the racks were tidy and he felt terrible when he broke weaponry.

Felix slumped against the wall and rubbed his eyes. He was going to drive himself insane if he kept comparing Dimitri to _Dimitri_.

He wanted _his_ Dimitri back. He didn’t want to deal with the nightmare of whatever this Dimitri had brought to him.

——

“I’ve told you over and over I won’t go back there without Dedue,” Felix sighed at Rodrigue. They’d only been home, away from Fhirdiad, for two months, and Dimitri had already sent half a dozen letters asking Felix to come back. “Why does he want me there so badly anyway?”

Rodrigue rubbed a hand over his face. “He didn’t say, but I believe he’d like you to serve as a vassal while he starts learning to command the royal knights.”

Felix suppressed a shudder. Dimitri was already adept at inflicting violence on people—he’d slapped a maid’s hands shortly before Felix and Rodrigue left to head home, he went all out against knights and trainers in practice matches that left them with bruises and cracked bones, he’d burst out laughing when a horse kicked a stablehand, and those were only things Felix had been there to witness. Felix didn’t want to think of what he was getting away with when Felix wasn’t there.

And Felix had been there often. Dimitri seems to relish making him uncomfortable. Whenever somebody was struck by misfortune, Dimitri was there to make it worse, and he’d look over at Felix and give him that stupid smirk like he was daring Felix to do something about it.

Felix kept Dedue’s advice to learn more about his enemy by keeping him close at hand, but it was difficult to stand being around Dimitri now. Felix hadn’t fully convinced himself of his theory that Dimitri was an imposter, but he wanted to believe it was true. If he wanted to prove it, he’d need some solid evidence and that meant spending time around him.

“You said I could start squiring with my cousin next year,” Felix grumbled. “I don’t want to do it with _him_. I don’t want to read any more of his letters, either. Stop passing them along to me.”

“Felix, you shouldn’t keep ignoring him. He’s your prince,” Rodrigue said. “And your friend,” he added after a split second delay that was long enough to be noticeable.

So even Rodrigue had noticed the rift between them. Felix was almost surprised he noticed, between his father’s busy schedule trying to wrangle Rufus and the Faerghus nobility while wrestling with his own loss and exhaustion. Felix wasn’t stupid—he knew that Rodrigue was working hard to keep their entire country from crumbling, but he was working himself well past the point of exhaustion so he wouldn’t have to think about who he’d lost.

Felix had fumed over what his father had said to him about Glenn—it had been a cold, callous way to think of his deceased son, and a sick thing to say to his remaining child, as far as Felix was concerned—but even he could see how hard Rodrigue was trying to remain unaffected.

Despite his busy schedule, Rodrigue had still noticed how abnormal Dimitri’s behavior was. He hadn’t _done_ anything about it, which annoyed Felix. If he could tell something was wrong, he should do something. Rodrigue had scolded Dimitri when he hit the maid, but Dimitri had _winked_ at Felix after Rodrigue turned around. He wouldn’t listen to any of Felix’s protests; Rodrigue just kept excusing Dimitri’s terrible behavior and his change of attitude by saying he’d been hurt and traumatized and most people wouldn’t be the same after what happened to him.

No, Felix didn’t think his father would be any help in dealing with Dimitri. Felix had the feeling that only he and Dedue could do something about this.

He’d thought about writing to Ingrid and Sylvain, but he had received a letter a month prior from Sylvain that made it sound like Ingrid still wasn’t doing well. Felix felt bad for being angry at her, but after a few months had passed he’d realized that grief wasn’t a competition and if she was still sad, that was fine. Sylvain had mentioned in his letter that her whole family was upset, too—she was under a lot of pressure to keep her family afloat, now that marriage into a wealthier family was off the table for the time being. Sylvain said his father had called him back home, so he’d left Galatea a month prior. Felix should write them both, even if he wasn’t sure he should tell them about Dimitri. He wanted advice, but he didn’t want them to think he sounded crazy, and if word somehow got back to Dimitri about what Felix suspected…

Ingrid didn’t sound like she was in any condition for Felix to pile more on her plate, anyway. Sylvain had been upset about Glenn too, but he hadn’t been engaged to him nor were they related. Sylvain had lately taken to pretending like he didn’t know things that Felix _knew_ he knew, and he spent more time flirting with women that were older than him, but he was usually observant and Felix knew he was smarter than he let on.

Sylvain would agree with him that Dimitri wasn’t acting like himself, Felix was certain. But would he agree that Dimitri was acting enough to actually be somebody completely different?

Felix was almost past the point of finding his theory unbelievable. Dedue didn’t readily agree to it, but he didn’t think it was impossible. Dedue didn’t know Dimitri, but he’d been getting to know Felix and Felix had known Dimitri better than anyone else.

Felix did wonder if Dedue actually believed that Felix could be correct, or if he was trying to stay on Felix’s good side by agreeing with him for the sake of his own survival. Having Felix and Rodrigue as allies would certainly benefit him more than getting kicked out of Fraldarius and left at the mercy of Faerghan commoners. But no—Dedue hadn’t readily agreed; he’d just said it seemed possible. And as far as Felix could tell Dedue was trustworthy. He had not proven himself otherwise. Felix did think he should get to know Dedue better—Dedue had to be lonely. And Felix had been so preoccupied with his own loss and with Dimitri that he hadn’t been as attentive to Dedue as he should have been. He’d have to change that. He wanted to be able to trust Dedue, and for Dedue to be able to trust him.

“Felix,” Rodrigue said, startling Felix out of his line of thought. “Wouldn’t you rather squire for Dimitri rather than cousin Albert? I thought you’d prefer that. You and Albert never got along that well.”

“We don’t,” Felix grumbled. He didn’t like this particular cousin much, that was true; he had a completely undeserved ego. “But he’s older and he’s good with swords and bows. I’d learn more from serving as his squire than I would acting as a vassal while Dimitri learns from someone else.” Felix grit out Dimitri’s name. The more he convinced himself that Dimitri _wasn’t_ Dimitri, the more it pained him to refer to him as such. Referring to an imposter with the name of the person he’d replaced made Felix feel like he was giving in to the deception.

“That does make sense,” Rodrigue admitted. “You’ve taken to the sword lately and Albert’s family prefers blades to lances. If you’d prefer to work under him, you have my permission.”

“Thanks,” Felix grumbled. He remembered Dedue’s advice that he should keep tabs on Dimitri, as much as Felix would prefer to avoid speaking or thinking of him. “So if Dimitri is going to start squiring soon… Who is he going to be working under?”

“He’s not going to be squiring, they want him learning tactics and command as soon as possible,” Rodrigue answered. “Originally I believe the plan was for him to work as Gustave’s apprentice, but…” He frowned. “We do not know where Gustave has gone.”

Felix’s frown mirrored his father’s. “He’s gone?” He had trained with the man—a stalwart knight who’d been serving the royal family for decades—in the past, when he’d visited Fhirdiad for extended periods. Gustave’s priority task had been training Dimitri. He’d worked under King Lambert’s parents and trained Lambert himself, so he had experience with training people with Blaiddyd strength. Gustave had also trained many of the knights that served House Blaiddyd, including Glenn.

“Yes,” Rodrigue answered, sounding tired. “He took off while His Highness was missing. We thought perhaps he’d left to search for him, but even after the prince returned Gustave has not sent word.”

Felix didn’t know what to make of that. All the royal knights spoke highly of Gustave Dominic; it seemed strange for him to vanish. Did his disappearance have something to do with Dimitri? If he was gone that may have made it easier for someone else to replace Dimitri…

“That’s too bad,” Felix said, distracted by this new information.

“It is,” Rodrigue agreed. “His daughter actually accosted me before we left Fhirdiad. She was quite distraught.”

How strange. Felix held onto the thought to look into later.


End file.
